Nurse's Orders
by Gorramit Girl
Summary: The universe has been saved, the wedding is over, and Rory and Amy have finally decided to come out of their bedroom suite on the TARDIS. It should be business as usual, so why is Rory insisted on seeing Eleven in the infirmary?


**Disclaimer**: Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC and copyright of Russel T. Davies and Steven Moffat. This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note**: This is a loose sequel to **A Good Egg, Slightly Cracked **and part of a loose series I like to call "**Bromance**." (My cleverness, let me show it to you.) Major thanks to **Bratflorida** on LJ for beta reading this for me.

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**Nurse's Orders**

The Doctor grinned widely as Rory entered the console room for the first time in nearly a week. Not that he didn't always appreciate and enjoy alone time with the TARDIS, but it had been far, far too quiet on-board as of late. Which was all right he supposed, but he liked noise.

As a wedding gift, the TARDIS had cooked up exciting, romantic rooms on-board for him and Amy. The Doctor, as happy as he was for his friends (and really, after three deaths, 2,000 years, and the Big Bang 2, anyone who wouldn't be happy for them was in the same category as puppy-kickers), he would be glad to get back to normal things. Normal things, of course, including overthrowing alien dictators, playing hopscotch with alien creatures, and dodging the not-unusual fire after accidentally insulting a matriarch.

"Busy a whole week! You must be exhausted!"

The Doctor didn't mention his disdain at the fact that when he'd gone to collect his errant couple for an adventure, he'd found a "Do Not Disturb – Yes, This ESPECIALLY Means YOU, Doctor!" sign on their bedroom door. He'd been left to investigate on his own, meetings with three of his favorite previous companions notwithstanding.

Rory blushed furiously and gave a not-quite-grin. "We slept a fair bit. And there was a sauna, and a balcony with a view of Atlantis! And the food! It kept coming and coming – stuff we'd never even seen before! There was a room with two tables – massage beds, really, so we lay down and it was like there were masseuses there even though it was just Amy and me. And then-"

The Doctor put his hand over Rory's mouth. "That's good then, we can get back to normal things." He strode off to fiddle at the console, before spinning around and marching back to Rory. "A sauna? Really?" He demanded incredulously.

Rory nodded.

"She must really like the two of you. She hasn't always warmed up to my companions. Other times she's liked them more than she likes me. Like right now. She's never given me a sauna. Least not this me. Last time she did, I believe I had big ears and a leather jacket." He circled Rory, looking him up and down. "Which… you are wearing. Right now. Like you're a great wearing-leather-jacket bloke who wears leather jackets."

"Found it in the wardrobe. I liked the pockets." Rory muttered, looking self-conscious. "D'you want it back?"

"No, no. You keep it for now; it's not for me anymore Just… upper-left, inside to the right third pocket…" his hands moved as he spoke, as if he was expecting himself to find something in his own jacket.

Rory's hand moved according to the Doctor's instructions. He pulled out "A banana?"

"You'll want to keep that safe. Banana's are good for you, Rory."

"Yeah, I know. They're loaded with potassium."

The Doctor grinned as though Rory had just said something extremely clever. "So, where's your Missus?"

"She's rummaging in the wardrobe and don't ever let her hear you call her that."

"You think she'll-" the Doctor mimed a slap.

"Oh, yeah."

"Right then."

"But it's good that she's busy, because I think it's time that you and I had a chat, Doctor," Rory said assertively.

"A chat?"

"Yes."

"Good! I love a good chat. I could chat all day. Last me never shut up – I just kept talking and talking and talking about the most asinine and beside-the-point-"

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Rory?"

"Shut up."

"Okay then. Let's chat. Let's do the chatting thing and be two blokes chatting." He shook his head. "No, 'Let's chat,' sufficed. Don't mind that last bit."

"I think the uh, infirmary is the best place for this."

"Right. Lots of conversations take place there. It's a universal thing. No, wait, that's the kitchen. Talks take place in the kitchen. Would you rather talk in the kitchen?"

"Er, no," Rory said. "The infirmary. It needs to be in the infirmary." He pointed in the direction of the hallway where the lights were flashing.

* * *

He sat on the infirmary stool swiveling around before Rory snapped his fingers. "No, you sit in the chair, Doctor."

"But-"

"Doctor. Off my stool."

Reluctantly, the Doctor moved to the hard plastic chair, sitting down and crossing his legs. His hand absently went up to check on his bow tie (still cool) and he raised an eyebrow as Rory sat on the stool with an authoritative air, holding a clipboard and a pen.

"Right, Doctor. Since we're going to be traveling together, it's time we got some things straight between us. So, just be honest with me and this should be relatively painless."

Bewildered, the Doctor nodded.

"We'll just start at the beginning, okay?"

"A very good place to start," the Doctor said. He tilted his head. "Did I just quote the Sound of Music?" His head bobbed as he mouthed the words to the song.

"Doctor!"

"Sorry, Rory. Ask away!"

"Okay. Your name's the Doctor?"

"Yes."

"That's your full name?"

"It's my name."

"Right," Rory said, scribbling something down. "And what is your age?"

"907 years old."

"Uh huh. And you're male, correct?"

"Yes," he paused. "Rory, are making a patient file on me?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. I figure that if we're going to be traveling together, I need to be prepared. Having your records on file will make my job a lot easier. And what is your race, Doctor? Time Lord?"

"Gallifreyan, actually. Time Lord is more of a title."

"I thought your title was Doctor."

"Yes, That too."

"Right," Rory scribbled some more. "Any allergies I need to be aware of?"

"Aspirin, along with most human pain-killers, Mercadian sea weed, Gallifreyan runtshire zest, and one or two other things that are extinct now."

Rory nodded and made more notes. "Sexual history? Any diseases or pregnancies?"

"Rory, I'm a male."

"So were the Anterellian drones back on the Orient Express, but that didn't stop them."

"It's not important-"

"Doctor, I promise this is all strictly confidential," Rory said, all professional and no male-bonding. "It's not like I'm going to go blathering on to Amy that you've had space herpes or something."

"What's the phrase you humans use? Ah, 'I'm clean.' No diseases, no pregnancies."

Rory scribbled more. Then he looked at his clipboard and clicked his pen several times. "What behaviors or lifestyle habits do you currently engage in regularly that you believe support your health?"

"I seem to run a lot. A few companions have complained about that. But running is good for you. Keeps the hearts' rates up. And I eat bananas. Bananas are good for you. Lots of potassium in bananas."

"Did you say hearts?" Rory asked, not the least bit overwhelmed.

"Yes. I have a binary vascular system that includes two hearts."

"Right," he jotted something down. "What behaviors or lifestyle habits do you currently engage in regularly that you believe are self-destructive lifestyle habits?"

"Oh, that's a loaded question," the Doctor answered, not meeting Rory's gaze. "Just jot down 'is the last of his kind,' that should cover quite a bit of it."

Rory nodded. "The question is on the form. Procedure to ask it."

On it went. Rory very professionally led the Doctor through several pages worth of medical information. The Doctor, to his credit, only trailed off thought a couple of dozen times.

"Rory, you do to know that I'm an alien and that your knowledge of alien medicine is rather limited, don't you?" he asked when Rory had finished with his exam, including breaking out a stethoscope and tongue depressor.

"Yes, I do. But it's best to be prepared, you know? And I'll learn. He held out his pen and clipboard to the Doctor. "I just need you to sign and date here that all the above information is correct and then we'll be finished."

The Doctor quickly signed and dated the file before handing it back to Rory.

Rory smiled as they left the infirmary. "That went rather well, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did. You were very professional in there. Hope I wasn't too difficult for you."

Rory laughed. "Oh, I've had worse patients than you."

"Any stories you could tell?"

Rory shot him a disapproving look. "Patient-Nurse confidentiality."

"Right," the Doctor said, feeling sheepish.

The pair walked to the kitchen, where Amy was sitting and pouring a cup of tea. Rory went straight to her side and kissed her cheek.

"It's about time the two of you finished. Rory wasn't too hard on you, was he Doctor?" she asked, grinning and wrapping an arm around Rory's side.

"No, uh, Rory was very gentle with me."

"I only made him turn his head and cough once," Rory said.

"Rory!" Amy exclaimed, horrified.

"I'm only joking," Rory insisted sheepishly. "Sorry. Medical humor."

The Doctor clapped his hands together and beamed at the pair. "So, you two, feel up to Rio?"

Amy gave a small cheer as Rory grinned widely.

"Well, come along then, Ponds." The Doctor led them in the direction of the console room. "Rio it is."

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Questions, comments, and _constructive_ criticism are greatly appreciated!


End file.
